


Destructive, Authentic, Resplendent, Kinetic

by imalright



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: AU where nohr was just on the other side of the planet from ylisse and nobody thought to look there, Christmas Special, M/M, Second Chances, a holiday hunk about to show you the true meaning of christmas, and the very next day u gave it away, anyway., but also laaaast christmas i gave u my heart, except it's not actually christmas it's popular sims 4 holiday winterfest, exes? to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:49:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28244952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imalright/pseuds/imalright
Summary: The Gods,Niles thinks again,Are cruel and fucking obnoxious.But so am I.Niles eyes Odin one last time, taking in all the comfortable details so he can bask in breaking him, and promptly searches around for the nearest single bitch that’ll tolerate his bullshit long enough. He stretches his arms up above his head, makes sure his shirt rides up juuuust enough. He can do this.He spots Xander.Yeah, he can definitely do this.Last Winterfest, Niles gave Odin his heart. The very next day, he gave it away.This year, to save himself from tears, he won't give it to anybody special.
Relationships: Odin/Zero | Niles
Comments: 15
Kudos: 30





	Destructive, Authentic, Resplendent, Kinetic

**Author's Note:**

> i love owainigo like anybody else with good taste but fair warning they are cousins in this fic and react with visceral disgust when mistaken for dating
> 
> content warnings for drunken decisions including implied sex, general alcohol use
> 
> if you saw the first title: no you didn't

_The Gods,_ Niles thinks, _Are cruel and obnoxious._

He takes a sip of eggnog and ignores the sticky, bitter taste of what is mostly rum sliding down his throat. Then he takes another sip. And another. And another.

Winterfest sucks ass. Niles knows it, Leo knows it, everybody who doesn’t know it is in denial and is Niles’s personal enemy. The holiday reeks of pine and desperation. Green leaves, red berries, pinecones dusted with white, they haunt the halls and flaunt their folly or however the song goes. He wouldn’t know. He doesn’t listen.

It’s an unkind holiday in an unforgiving season. The alcohol’s nice but the party sucks. The best hope he has for a bit of fun is to crawl under the skin of some stuffy noblewoman, but Leo gave him strict orders to be on his _best behavior._

“You could pretend to have fun, at the very least,” Camilla murmurs with a wink as she passes by and hands him a fresh glass of spiked something. He chuckles. She disappears into the crowd and, once again, Niles is left leaning against a stone pillar at a shitty party with a fistful of alcohol. He drinks it. It’s peppermint.

“What did Camilla just give you?”

Niles glances to his right and smirks at Leo’s questioning look. “Want a taste?” he asks.

“Maybe later,” Leo sighs. His shoulders sag almost imperceptibly. “Just… behave.”

“I always do.”

Yeah, Winterfest sucks ass. Leo walks away and Niles returns to people watching. He’s just thinking about how bored he is when he catches sight of a familiar head of gold and smile as bright as the sun. He freezes.

He must’ve just arrived; his face is pink from the cold and his hair damp from the snow. An attendant takes his jacket. Niles watches, careful not to move in case he’s noticed. Someone else, a shorter man with pink hair, follows shortly behind. They lean together and whisper to one another. Niles frowns.

So, Odin Dark has returned, and he brought a friend.

Pink laughs at something Odin says and it ignites a fury in Niles. Their carefree stride, familiar rapport, and just the ease at which they exist side-by-side is disgusting. Heinous. Niles hates it. Niles hates this toxic feeling growing in his gut and crawling up his throat. Is this jealousy? Has he discovered _jealousy?_

 _The Gods,_ Niles thinks again, _Are cruel and fucking obnoxious._

_But so am I._

Niles eyes Odin one last time, taking in all the comfortable details so he can bask in breaking him, and promptly searches around for the nearest single bitch that’ll tolerate his bullshit long enough. He stretches his arms up above his head, makes sure his shirt rides up juuuust enough. He can do this.

He spots Xander.

Yeah, he can definitely do this.

A few quick steps and Niles slides his arm around Xander’s and leans in just enough. He even gets the bonus pleasure of watching Xander’s face shift in confusion and surprise before returning to his careful mask.

“Niles,” he greets.

“Xander,” Niles greets back.

“Is there any particular reason —”

“Nope,” Niles cuts him off.

They have a titillating staring contest. Then:

“Stop hanging off my brother,” Leo hisses in his ear, delightfully close. Niles makes it a point to exaggerate the shiver that runs down his body.

“Step a little closer and say that again,” Niles murmurs back with a smirk. He catches the dangerous look in Leo’s eyes and obediently drops Xander’s arm. Xander doesn’t react. Odin doesn’t either, but Niles wasn’t checking. Leo lightly tugs his dress jacket, a silent command to move away from the crowd.

“What do you keep looking at?” Leo asks, voice still low but easier to hear now that they’ve stepped away from spying eyes. Niles glances around just to be safe. The nearest guests are several paces away, anything they say will be drowned out by the ambient noise of the party.

“Nothing,” Niles lies anyway. Leo frowns.

“If you don’t wish to share I won’t force you,” he says, “But whatever’s going on —”

“I’m looking at _him,”_ Niles jerks his head in the direction of his ire. Leo raises an eyebrow. Niles waits, daring him to say something.

“Him,” Leo repeats.

Niles grunts.

“Is he suspicious? A threat?”

Niles snorts. “To himself, maybe.”

Leo waits. Niles knows he isn’t gonna get out of this. He rolls his eyes.

“Can’t even get a hatefuck out of this,” Niles mutters to an unimpressed Leo, “Not unless I can pry him away from whoever the hell _that_ is.”

Leo hums. “I take it this man has somehow slighted you, then?”

Niles scowls behind his glass.

* * *

_Memories clouded by the haze of alcohol, drunk on love and champagne and love and rum and love, walls torn down and demolished by the unbridled enthusiasm of an impossible man._

_Niles met Odin once before._

_Odin entered his life in a blizzard, he was an ice-cold tornado that melted his own glacial spirit. Niles, stupid fucking Niles, had wrapped a scarf around his stupid fucking head and followed him out into the snow. Their lips froze together, their laughter thawed them apart. Snow stuffed down his pants. A stuffy party a million miles behind them._

_“Hark!” Odin shouted, pointing forward into the stupid garden maze behind Xander’s house, “Adventure awaits us, my dear comrade! Seize the night with me and we shall adventure into darkness hand-in-hand.”_

_The dull sound of the piano is a world away. The party is long behind them. They brought no alcohol, no food or snacks, they were hardly even prepared for the brutal Windmire night in their dress jackets and scarves. It was all very absurd. Niles couldn’t hold in his laughter._

_“Darkness in hand is worth two in the bush, or whatever,” Niles snorted. Odin’s grin lit up the night, a guiding beacon in a deadly storm._

_“You have an expeditionist’s spirit!” Odin declared. Niles considered a joke about exhibitionism, but before he could complete the thought Odin continued. “Twists and turns await us, fate beckons us forward! The magic of the jungle calls to my most primal instincts!”_

_“Then hurry up,” Niles urged._

_Then he did._

_Niles quickly ran out of breath following behind Odin. Odin’s long ass legs left him unaffected by the snow while mere mortals such as himself had to actually lift their feet to get anywhere. He ran ahead, again and again, but he always came back and, eventually, he scooped Niles up in his arms in a show of strength that left Niles embarrassingly turned on._

_“Do you often pick up strange men at parties?” Niles teased._

_“Perhaps,” Odin laughed, “But you’re the strangest.”_

_Niles should have been offended._

_It was easy to get drunk on Odin Dark. He was warm. Welcoming. The way he spoke of the darkness inside only served to illuminate the spirit within._

_Odin Dark, he realized, was someone who cared deeply about others in a way Niles never could. Odin Dark looked at Niles, plain old Niles, and saw someone to care for. Odin Dark took Niles by the hand and decided he would enjoy his Winterfest. Odin Dark moved the world to make sure he did._

_“Make a wish with me.”_

_Niles, his feet firmly planted on the ground and his hands deep in his pockets, gave Odin a look._

_“A wish.”_

_“Yes!” Odin looked up. Niles followed his gaze. Snow fell from the sky directly onto their faces, melting when it hit their skin. Odin continued, “There’s a legend where I hail from, if one captures the first snowflake of the storm and makes a wish, it’s sure to come true.”_

_“It’s been snowing for hours,” Niles pointed out._

_“Then I must find the first snowflake.”_

_“I thought you had to catch it?”_

_“Capture,” Odin corrected. Niles stopped looking at the sky and looked back to Odin. Odin’s eyes were on the ground, scanning, contemplative._

_“You can’t be serious,” Niles said, his voice cracking with laughter._

_“No easy task, by any means,” Odin said. He fell to his knees and stuffed his gloved hands into the snow. “But Odin Dark never shies away from the impossible.”_

_And then, because he’s fucking stupid, Niles believee him when Odin announcee his great discovery._

_“Here!” He stood and beckoned Niles over. On his thumb was a perfectly intact single snowflake. Niles silently admitted he was impressed he found that on the ground. “I’ve found it. Pretty impressive, hm?”_

_“How do you know that’s the right one?” Niles asked dryly._

_“I can feel its power,” Odin whispered. “No simple snowflake could exude this might. This snowflake has the power to manipulate fate and time, if only we allow it the chance!”_

_Niles thought that all sounded very stupid._

_“What do you say?” Odin asked. Niles looked up to his face again. It was like a punch to the gut. An endearing, impossible punch to the gut. Odin’s eyes held a world of possibilities, his hopeful grin held a world of miracles. Niles swallowed._

_“Go on, then,” he forced out._

_“You would surrender the opportunity for a wish?!” Odin scoffed, “Would you pass on a birthday wish? A wishing well?”_

_“Yes,” Niles said, savoring Odin’s look of shock, “I never do that shit.”_

_“You fool,” Odin whispered, “It’s no wonder the spirit of the holidays has left you untouched until this day. You refuse to feel its caress.”_

_Oh, he couldn’t resist. It was too easy. “I don’t mind a nice_ caress _,” he purred, “From the right person.”_

_Odin stiffened. Niles stepped closer once, twice, until their scarves touched and their breath intermingled in the air between them. He had to tilt his head up to watch Odin’s face turn a delightful shade of red with each step closer, and by the Gods, it was worth it._

_“What’s your wish, then?” Niles asked, voice low._

_“Um,” Odin squeaked. What a delight. “One cannot share their wish, lest it doesn’t come true.”_

_“Hm.” Niles leaned closer, not quite touching lips, but if he leaned on his toes they’d meet in an instant. “Hurry up, then, mister secrets.”_

_Odin cleared his throat. “R-right. One, uh, one moment.”_

_Niles watched, enraptured, as Odin shut his eyes_

_Then Odin stuck the snowflake in his mouth._

_Niles was shocked into laughter. “What the hell?!”_

_“It seemed like the right thing to do,” Odin defended._

_Nefarious plans forgotten, Niles leaned forward into the space between Odin’s neck and shoulder and let the laughter spill out of him. It was light and free, dislodged doubt hiding in the cracks and crevices of his mind and body. Odin’s arms wrapped around him._

_“Fuck,” Niles wheezed, “I got it bad.”_

_Odin’s laugh was natural. It seamlessly bled into his own, a kind invitation to keep falling until he hit the fucking ground, until the storm cleared and he could see clearly. Part of him believed there wouldn’t be an end. Part of him believed Odin would wish on snowflakes until the day they died._

_Part of Niles was very, very stupid, and that part of him died that Winterfest._

_“Mmf,” Niles groaned into his pillow the following morning. He felt like he’d been beaten senseless the night before, crushed by an avalanche, smothered by a hangover. He buried his face in his pillow. The mid-morning sun warmed his sheets. So why was he so cold?_

_He lifted his head, ignoring the throbbing pain pounding in his temples, and blinked the sleep away. Light shining in through the windows highlighted the contours of his messed up sheets. The wet spot dried overnight, leaving a dark stain in the sheets. He yawned._

_Then it all caught up with him._

_A spirit so bright it lit up his night. Theatrical earnestness, obnoxious optimism. Gods, he humiliated himself last night. He turned his head, searching for Odin Dark, preparing himself to push away the destructive force that tore down his walls and settled in his heart._

_He found nobody. He realized his bed was cold._

_Why did it hurt?_

_Why did it hurt so fucking bad?_

_“Shit,” Niles muttered to himself. “Fuck.”_

_It’d been decades since Niles had let himself feel heartbreak. He wasn’t about to begin then._

_Fuck him._

_It didn’t hurt._

_Fuck Odin Dark._

* * *

Owain Dark looks himself up and down in his bedroom mirror and nods, satisfied with his clothing choice for Nohr’s Winterfest Gala. Black, crimson, and gold truly are his colors, and at times he considers Odin Dark to be his true name. It was a stroke of genius, really, to come up with such a perfect moniker for the perfect night. This will be his second time in Nohr, his second time at this yearly gala, and if he was lucky, his second time with a man made of starlight.

He’s so excited he could _die._

“Owain!”

Owain’s heart stops in his chest. He hastily covers his surprise with his hand in pose 14 and spins on his heel to face the source of his shock. Inigo stands, blinking innocently in the doorway, well aware of what he’s done.

“Inigo, my dear cousin!” Owain boasts as if absolutely nothing has happened, “How I have awaited your arrival! Please, step through the stone portal and enter my lair so we may speak freely.”

When Inigo smiles unguarded his nose scrunches up just a tad and his grin goes so wide his eyes nearly close. He gives such a grin and walks all the way into Owain’s room, firmly closing the ancient wooden door behind him and sliding the lock shut. Owain and Inigo both relax at the same time.

“I’m already exhausted,” Inigo admits. He runs a gloved hand through his shaggy carnation-pink hair and sighs. “How did you manage all this last year?”

“Strength,” Owain answers, “Unlimited, incredible strength.”

Inigo drops his hand and smirks. “Are you lying to yourself or to me?”

Owain gasps in mock shock and drops the hand covering his face to cover his heart, instead. “You wound me!” he cries, “You know as well as anybody else in this castle that I possess unrivaled stamina, that my abilities can bring an entire ballroom to its knees!”

“And that’s why I’ve been asked to accompany you,” Inigo says.

“Yes, exactly,” Owain says.

A pause. Then it hits him.

“Wait, _what?!”_

Inigo’s face turns serious. “What do you mean _what?”_

Owain stumbles over his words. “Y-you’re coming with?”

“Well, yes.” Inigo stuffs his hands in his pockets and steps forward. “We talked about it, Owain. Several times.”

Owain takes a step back as he digs through his memories to find some sort of recollection. “I’m afraid this conversation eludes me,” he admits, “Perhaps you might share why such a decision was made?”

Inigo takes another step forward. Owain takes another step back. His heel meets the mirror. He swallows.

“Well,” Inigo says, stepping closer with each word until he’s invading Owain’s personal bubble, “Last year you returned with no connections, no influence, nothing.” Inigo sighs and takes a step back. “So now I have to babysit you.”

Fury rears its ugly head. “Babysit?!” Owain asks, shocked, “I’m older than you!”

“By, like, a month,” Inigo says.

_“Older.”_

Inigo whistles. “Shame you don’t act like it.”

“Ugh, _fine.”_ Owain rubs his temples and sighs. “Fine, just… You have to make a secret identity, too.”

Inigo blinks. “I what?”

Owain throws his hands in the air. “A secret identity! An alter ego! We’re crossing into unfamiliar territory, going undercover —”

“Networking isn’t going undercover,” Inigo interrupts. Owain ignores him.

“— on a fantastical mission that could decide the fate of our countries! It’s serious business, Inigo, and you must take it seriously.” Owain adjusts his stance, slides his right foot in front of his body and leans forward into pose 32. “That is the essence of power. You must grasp your potential if you want to stand by my side.”

“Grasp,” Inigo repeats, “Got it. I’ll, uh, I’ll come up with something.”

“Please inform me if you need assistance.”

“I won’t.” Inigo looks Owain up and down. “Is that what you’re, uh, wearing?”

“Yes.” Owain beams. “It’s exactly what I wore last year.”

“...Great.” Inigo sighs. “Don’t tell anybody I came with you, okay?”

“Your secret’s safe with me.” Owain winks. “And don’t worry, baby cousin, I’ll be your shoulder to cry on after every girl refuses to dance with you.”

“Just hurry up,” Inigo says. Owain won. “The carriage is ready, we’re supposed to leave five minutes ago.”

Owain panics. Time escaped him once again, slipping through his fingers and passing far beyond where he can comprehend. He scrambles to gather his things and sprints ahead of Inigo to make it on time. Inigo follows behind at a leisurely pace.

Outside, their carriage is obnoxiously grand: shining white with gold trim, plush seats, pulled by midnight black horses decked out in silver. Owain thinks they should have made the entire carriage black to match his whole vibe. They climb in, their luggage loaded, and as they begin the journey Owain sighs and clears his throat.

“The truth is,” Owain admits, “I _did_ make a connection last year.”

Inigo turns from gazing out the window and raises an eyebrow.

Owain continues, “I failed to ascertain his status or a way to contact him, but I completed my mission as promised.”

“You’re not very good at this,” Inigo points out.

“I admit, networking wasn’t a consideration,” he says, “I was caught up in the magic of a winterfest romance.”

A pause.

“Whaa _aaat?”_ Inigo whines, “No fair! _Owain_ got a holiday fling and I didn’t? Why?!”

“If I didn’t know any better,” Owain says, “I might think you’re insulting me.”

“I’m insulting myself,” Inigo mutters.

“I’m going to spare your life and ignore that.” Owain leans back in his seat and crosses his arms. “I fear I made a mistake, however.”

Owain waits for Inigo to make a joke about Owain being the mistake. He doesn’t. He’s forced to admit Inigo may have grown up while he wasn’t looking.

“As stated before, I failed to ascertain a point of contact,” he continues, “Come morning I was trapped in the grips of the dreamland, slumbering peacefully as time slipped by. One of the attendants retrieved me and, in my hurry to embark on schedule, I failed to leave a token of my gratitude.”

Inigo’s face screws up. “Like a thank you card? Seriously?”

“N-no!” Owain scoffs. “Like my true name! Obviously!”

Inigo relaxes. “Oh,” he says, “Wow. You really suck at this.”

“Get a date and I’ll consider your opinion,” Owain says.

“I did,” Inigo pouts.

“Getting tea with your mother doesn’t count.”

“Does _your_ mother know you had a one night stand?”

 _“Anyway,”_ Owain sighs, “I’m hoping he’s here again this year. I dream of our reunion.”

“I don’t need to know that,” Inigo says.

“Not like — Gods, must everything be so crude?” Owain shakes his head. “It’s _romance,_ Inigo. Perhaps if you removed your head from the filthy gutter you live in you’d know a thing or two about it.”

“I wouldn’t call a one night stand romantic,” Inigo says dryly, “At least add a date to the experience.”

“You don’t understand,” Owain says, “Together we were two halves of a whole. Being with him was the most fulfilling experience I’ve ever had.”

“Gross.”

Owain sighs. “Maybe he’ll be there this year as well,” he says, “I desire nothing more than to make it up to him.”

* * *

Leo’s body is tense with discomfort and his face is barely masking his vexation. Niles doesn’t care. The alcohol in Niles’s system _super_ doesn’t care. He wraps his arm around Leo’s tighter and pulls him closer.

“We could just leave,” he whispers to Leo. He glances toward Odin. Odin doesn’t notice.

 _“Ugh.”_ Leo shoves him off and brushes his arm where Niles held him. “You’re acting ridiculous, Niles.”

“Hm.” Niles licks his lips. “Perhaps.”

“I don’t know why I put up with this.” Leo shakes his head. “Entertain yourself in some way that isn’t _this,_ I must return to the party.”

Leo strides away before Niles suggests several different ways he can entertain himself and, once again, he’s left alone. He looks toward the open bar to his left and sees, shining through a crowd of pompous strangers, Odin having just a fucking lovely time. Niles decides to go the other way. He dips low, ducking through the crowd, until he reaches the wall on the opposite side of the hall and stands up straight.

Then Niles runs into something very solid and very warm.

_“Shit.”_

Niles curses himself for not paying attention and tries to wipe off the drink that spilled down his front with his sleeve. The thing he ran into whimpers. He looks up and it’s like he’s been pushed over the edge of a cliff.

“Oh no,” Pink sighs as he surveys his ruined navy vest, stained burgundy by the wine he’d been holding, “This’ll never come out. It was my sexiest vest, too…”

Pink is still considering his shirt when he seems to realize the world around him still exists. His head jerks up and a smooth smile grows on his face. Niles hates it. He wants it to fucking _shatter._

“Apologies, my good sir,” Pink says, his voice strong and even, “I’m afraid I was distracted by your dazzling good looks and — oh.” He frowns. Niles grins. “You’re —”

“I see my reputation precedes me,” Niles purrs. Pink’s face glows in a delightful shade that matches his own hair. Perhaps Winterfest can be saved, after all.

“O-oh, reputation?” Pink’s smile returns. A challenge. “I’m afraid I’m rather new around here, I only know what Odin has told me.”

So he knows. Niles isn’t surprised Odin likes to kiss and tell.

“Odin, hm?” Niles leans into Pink’s space. Pink stands strong. “And what did your friend share with you..?”

Pink winks. “My lips are sealed, my friend! Unless, of course, you have something you might trade.”

“Trade?” Niles smirks. “Elaborate.”

“About Odin. You know,” Pink looks away wistfully. “Any knowledge you might have, any feelings… forget that part.”

Smooth. Niles cycles through his options. Does he share all the obscene details? Does he plant a seed of despair? But, no, Pink will report back to Odin, and if he plays his cards right he’ll get to watch Odin’s world crumble without having to say a single word to him.

“I’m afraid I don’t remember,” Niles says, stepping to the side and slipping around Pink, “My nights often blend together in a haze of agonizing pleasure.”

Pink doesn’t follow after him. When Niles glances back he catches a glimpse of Pink hurrying toward the direction he saw Odin last. Perfect.

* * *

“Come with me. _Now.”_

Owain nearly chokes on his drink when Inigo grabs him by the upper arm and drags him away from the open bar, through the crowd, and out onto a mostly empty balcony under the cloudy night sky. Even in the darkness he can see the panicked look on Inigo’s face.

“What is it?” Owain asks, “Did some fiend harm you? Or did you try and ask a taken woman on a date?”

Inigo shakes his head furiously. “No! I-I ran into Niles,” he says, his words stumbling over themselves.

“Oh,” Owain says. He ignores the memory of Niles hanging off the fucking crown prince of Nohr. “Did you, uh, like him?”

“Not at all.” Inigo lets go of Owain and crosses his arms. “Owain, I don’t mean to be unkind, but are you sure your feelings were mutual?”

Owain was _positive._ He meant every word he said and he swore Niles meant it all, too. It didn’t feel like a one night stand they were meant to throw away, it felt more like a big bang: a meeting, a massive explosion, and the constant kinetic growth that would follow for eons to come.

But that was then, and this is now. Now Niles has had a full year to forget all about him, to forget all about their fervid romance and how their hearts fit together as perfectly as their bodies. He looks down at his own feet and confirms he’s still standing and hasn’t yet been swallowed by a sudden black hole.

“Perhaps,” Owain says, voice small and defeated, “I overestimated my significance in his world.”

Inigo claps a hand on his shoulder. He looks up, hopeful he may have a solution.

“Cheer up,” Inigo says. He puts on his infuriating smooth smile, but Owain credits him for the effort. “There’s a party inside full of available strangers! You can choose any single one of them instead.”

The thought is a stab through the chest. “It’s not about companionship,” he says, “It’s about _him.”_

“Well,” Inigo says, “Maybe you can be friends, then?”

A hopeful warmth blooms in Owain’s chest. “Perhaps you’re right,” he says, rolling the thought over in his mind, “Removing him from my life entirely isn’t the only path. You’re right, Inigo.”

“Laslow,” Inigo corrects, “And you should say that more often.”

“Don’t count on it.” Owain turns back toward the party and feels himself fill with a new found strength. He stands up tall and says, “Let us return. I shall find him and have a conversation.”

Inigo gestures for Owain to lead the way. He does, striding through the door and back into the hall crowded with strangers. He really should speak to more people, make some important connections, but all he really cares about is Niles ordering a drink at the bar. Thankfully, Owain is an excellent actor, and he’s able to pretend he doesn’t even notice Niles as he approaches and orders a drink.

Niles notices, though. The bartender begins pouring his drink and Niles turns to leave, but Owain never cared about his drink, anyway. Before Niles can leave he grabs his shoulder. Niles goes tense underneath him.

“Niles, wait,” he says, wasting no time, “I wish to speak with you.”

Time seems to freeze as Niles turns. He offers only a side profile and a sharp eye. “Oh?” he asks in his smooth voice that sends shivers down Owain’s spine, “Consider me tickled.”

It takes a moment to align his thoughts. He doesn’t want it to take a moment. He doesn’t want to waste any time, so he allows the words to spill through his lips unfiltered.

“I’m sorry,” he says, rushing, “I didn’t mean to just… _leave_. I was running late, I had to catch my ride, and I didn’t know where to write to keep in touch.”

“Pretty words.” Niles’s voice turns dangerous. “I suppose you believe I’m looking for a round two? That’s a shame.”

“I _know_ you felt what I felt,” Owain whispers, “Don’t throw away fate, Niles. I made a mistake. I don’t want to make it again.”

Niles sneers. “Fate turned its back on me,” he hisses, “And I turned my back on it.”

 _“Don’t.”_ Owain tightens his grasp on Niles’s shoulder. “Don’t deny yourself. And don’t pretend like you’re blameless — you could’ve written to me!”

“Right.” Niles’s eye narrows. “And where, exactly, would I have written to?”

“To Castle Ylisse!”

“The entire castle? Fascinating, I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

“No! I —” Owain is realizing, quite belatedly, that perhaps an alter ego was a bad idea. He can hear Inigo’s judgemental stare on the back of his head. “Odin Dark isn’t my true name, okay?”

At this Niles shakes his hand off and turns to face him properly, his face carved of impenetrable, unreadable stone. “So let me get this straight,” he says, smooth and poisonous, “When _you_ disappeared overnight, _I_ was meant to write to an entire castle with a name that doesn’t exist?”

Owain’s mouth falls open. Then it shuts. Then it falls open again. “I-I, uh,” he stutters, “I didn’t th-think that far ahead.”

“Genius.” His face hardens further. “What is your real name, then, o Castle of Ylisse?”

Oh, this is embarrassing. Owain wishes he had never done this. “I’m Owain,” he says, as strong as he can under such incredible pressure, “Prince of Ylisse.”

Niles’s mask cracks for just a moment, illustrating his displeasure. _“Prince?”_

Owain swallows. “Y-yes.”

_“Disgusting.”_

Owain doesn’t know what to say to that.

“Well, mister _prince,”_ Niles steps forward into Owain’s space. Even furious and guarded, he smells familiar. Owain feels a little weird about noticing that. “Why don’t you leave me alone, and get back to your little _boyfriend.”_

“My boyfriend?” The words hit, but they don’t sink in. “What..?”

“You _boyfriend,_ idiot,” Niles spits. “Gods, did you already forget about the guy you came with? That’s cruel, even for me.”

“The guy I — oh, _Gods,”_ Owain’s world drops out from under him before swinging back around and smacking him upside the head. He coughs. Chokes. _“Ini —_ I mean, _Laslow?!”_

“I don’t care,” Niles hisses as he takes a step back. His eye pierces Owain, pure hatred and fury and _misunderstanding_ driving through him. Owain can’t gather his thoughts quick enough. Niles is gone before he can force the words out.

He turns to Laslow instead.

“You’re my _cousin,”_ he pleads.

“For once in my life,” Laslow mutters, “I want you to tell everybody in this room we’re related.”

* * *

Of fucking _course_ he’s a prince, he’s _perfect._

Perfectly obnoxious, but still perfect.

Niles throws back what remains of his drink and slams his glass down on a windowsill. He’s not made for this shit. Niles has sworn his life to one prince, found himself scandalously fond of Leo’s siblings, but they have always been the exception to his otherwise rigid rules. Royalty, nobility, Niles doesn’t belong there. He’s meant to disrupt, not to occupy.

He looks around for _his_ royals and finds them with ease: Xander and Leo are conversing with one another near the head table at the front of the room. Niles can take his center stage, and he can use them as his own personal shield. The room blurs past him as he approaches.

“Hello, again,” Niles purrs, wrapping his hand around Xander’s arm once again as Leo comes up with thousands of ways to kill him, probably. “Lovely evening, hm?”

“Niles,” Leo warns.

“Is something the matter, Niles?” Xander asks. Niles is about to respond when they’re interrupted by someone very enthusiastic, very irritating, and _very_ pink.

“Well, hello there!” Pink approaches them with impressive confidence, Niles can admit, “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of introducing myself. My name is Laslow, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

 _Laslow_ beams at each of them in turn. Niles never drops his death glare.

“Hello, Laslow,” Xander responds politely, “I am Xander, this is my brother Leo,” he gestures to Leo. Leo nods. “And this is Leo’s retainer, Niles, though he seems to be my personal shadow tonight. How are you this evening?”

Laslow stands, frozen, still smiling as panic grows behind his eyes. He chuckles awkwardly.

“X-Xander?” he asks, a tremor in his voice, “And Leo? Am I, ah, speaking with Nohrian royalty?”

“Yes,” Xander says, “Though tonight there is little reason for formality. Please, be at ease.”

“Oh.”

A beat. A sticky, uncomfortable beat.

Niles rolls his eyes. “Are you seriously embarrassed to talk to a prince?” he asks, “Didn’t you come on a date with Prince Dickhead, himself?”

Xander clears his throat awkwardly. Leo hangs his head. Laslow tilts his head.

“Yeah, about that,” Laslow says, his eyes brightening and smile never faltering, “He’s my cousin.”

Silence as this news settles over the group like a dark cloud.

“Oh, Gods,” Leo mutters.

Niles feels the same.

“I can’t deal with this,” Niles mutters. He drops Xander’s arm and storms off, making sure to shoulder check Laslow on the way. Fuck him. Fuck all this. He makes a mental note to tell Leo he won’t be attending the gala next year. He exits the hall and is already halfway down the corridor when a familiar voice shouts behind him.

“Wait!”

Niles ignores Odin’s voice echoing around the castle walls and continues around a corner. Odin’s footsteps speed up. He runs to catch up with Niles and stops directly in front of him. Niles goes to step around. Odin blocks his path.

“Wait,” Odin repeats, “Please.”

The thing about Odin is he’s larger than life. It was true the year before, and it’s especially true now that Niles is aware of his status and lineage. His real name, Owain, can’t hope to contain his grand nature. Odin is natural; correct. How these halls can contain a man of Odin’s magnitude is lost on Niles and he hates it. He wonders if anyone’s tried to knock him down a peg. Has anyone _dared?_

“I do _love_ when you beg,” Niles purrs with a careful smirk to mask his fury, “You look positively pathetic.”

Odin’s face falls and oh, it’s _delicious._ The crack in his armor gapes. He can’t wait to see the poison lurking underneath.

But wait. That isn’t right. Odin Dark isn’t armor, he’s not walls and guards and dams; he’s a whirlwind, loud and open and overwhelming. There’s no cracks in his facade because he doesn’t have one. He boasts his darkness, his most terrible secrets are a badge of honor.

Niles hates that he knows this.

Niles hates that he knows Odin’s pain is genuine, and his confusion earnest.

“Niles…” Odin begins, but Niles can’t stand it.

“Stop.” Niles drops the smirk. He lets his discomfort show and, distantly, he already knows his guard has fallen. “I have nothing for you. I don’t know why you chased me out here, but I’m not what you’re looking for.”

Odin’s face screws up. “I’m not looking for a _thing,”_ he protests, his voice bordering in a whine, “I’m looking for _you.”_

“That sucks,” Niles shoots back.

“Just listen,” Odin says and it’s like an arrow through his chest.

Niles takes a deep breath, allows it to fill his chest and ground him so his head can level out and his heart can slow. It doesn’t work. “This is a waste of your time,” he insists.

“It’s not.” Odin steps forward. Niles steps back. Odin grabs his hand, lightning fast, catching Niles off guard. “You’re not a waste of my time, Niles. Fated love isn’t a waste of my time.”

How does this fucking nerd _do_ this to him?

He doesn’t have a chance to put his thoughts in order. Odin’s small, hopeful grin halts any forming thoughts and protests. He realizes his shock is plain on his face. He realizes he doesn’t give a shit. Odin’s grin grows.

“Follow me,” Odin whispers before tugging on Niles’s hand.

Niles ignores how turned on he is by Odin’s ability to drag him outside into the cold. What the fuck kind of muscles does he have, anyway? He’s sure he could rip himself apart from Odin’s hand if he wished, but gods, it’s easier to tell himself he can’t.

He half pays attention to where they’re going. Outside, in the snow, some bushes or whatever, his feet are cold but his face is warm. They end up in the stupid hedge maze set up behind the castle, lit up with magical twinkling lights where the snow glows an ethereal blue. Odin takes them around turns, steps through the hedge walls when they hit a dead end, littering his face with small scratches. Niles is sure he’s not much different at this point.

Finally, once they’re good and lost, Odin turns to him. Niles steels himself.

“May I share a secret?” Odin asks. Silver snowflakes glisten on his nose, mingling with his freckles, forming constellations that Niles could name if he devoted the time. Odin would probably prefer to name them.

“Fine,” Niles grunts.

He squeezes Niles’s hand. It’s warm. “I’ve been counting down the days until my return,” he says, breathless, “My rushed departure is my greatest regret. It haunts me, constantly reminds me of what I lost. I’ve been looking forward to our reunion this entire time.”

It hurts. It fucking _hurts._

“Don’t act like you actually give a shit about me,” Niles spits. Gods, he actually believes him, too, but he knows better. He needs to know better. Niles is the most vile of them all, and he knows this game. “This is some twisted, fucked up holiday hunt.”

Odin’s brow furrows in thought. Niles tries to pull his hand away. Odin doesn’t let go.

“Last year I shared the legend of the first snowflake from my homeland,” he says, carefully enunciating his words, “I’ve had a great deal of time to consider what I did wrong, but I believe I’ve found the answer.”

Niles refuses to ask for more. Odin continues anyway.

“The divine beings that grant wishes are fickle creatures,” he explains, “They’re unbelievably powerful and they exist far beyond our human concepts of time. I suspect my wish failed because they searched through our future and discovered I shared my secret.”

“You definitely suck at keeping secrets,” Niles says. A weak deflection.

“A factual statement,” Odin agrees. He pulls Niles forward so they’re facing one another, not a step apart. Niles has to look up to properly see his patient expression. His voice drops, low and soft. “Niles, never before have I fallen so quickly and true.” Ow. “From the moment we met, I knew I could love you if I only allowed myself the freedom.” _Ow._ “It was naive of me to wish upon a legend. Our futures are not up to fate; they’re up to _us._ I wished for us to be together, to find everlasting happiness in one another.”

Niles huffs an exhale.

“Allow me to disregard the legends,” Odin continues. His eyes are soft and unguarded, reflecting the snow and shining with hope and trust. “I will fight for my dreams. I am prepared to give you my heart if you are prepared to open yours. Please, Niles, a chance is all I ask for.”

A chance. A chance to tear him apart, to decimate whatever pathetic scraps of hope still live his mind. A chance for Odin to drive his fingers into Niles’s cracks, to know his weaknesses. A chance for torture.

A chance for _happiness._

He fucking hates that he’s falling for this shit again.

Gods, he wants to fall for this shit again.

Odin steps closer. Niles doesn’t step back. “Call it a Winterfest miracle,” Odin whispers. His lips are so close. The air between them is electrified. A snowflake falls in his eye. “I know to trust magic when I feel it.”

He has one more chance to back out. It’s not too late. “Winterfest is stupid.” He does not nail it.

“Winterfest is wonderful,” Odin whispers against his lips.

* * *

“Mmf,” Niles groans into his pillow the following morning. He felt like he’d been beaten senseless the night before, crushed by an avalanche, smothered by a hangover. He buried his face in his pillow. The mid-morning sun warmed his sheets. Gods, he’s warm.

He lifts his head, heavy with sleep, and blinks until his vision clears. Light shining in through the windows highlights the contours of his messed up sheets and glows on the curve of Odin’s body. He yawns.

Then it all catches up with him.

A love so ill-advised it ripped past his walls. A future, a promise. Gods, he humiliated himself last night. He turns his head and considers his pillow and whether or not he should suffocate himself in it.

He shouldn’t. He doesn’t.

Why does it feel so good?

Why does it feel so fucking good?

“Shit,” Niles mutters to himself. “Fuck.”

Niles has never felt like this. He’s never trusted a near stranger like this. He wonders what it’ll be like.

How strange.

It hurts. Love hurts.

It’s good.

He leans over and kisses Odin Dark.

**Author's Note:**

> me in november: i'm not writing a holiday fic this year it was a huge pain in my ass last year and i hated it  
> me on december 1 listening to covers of last christmas on repeat: well,
> 
> ANYWAY i'm trying to get comfortable writing longer (read: more than 5k words) one shots rather than splitting everything up into chapters, esp for older fandoms where there aren't as many active readers. i'm not used to this so i hope u had fun!!!!
> 
> and please have a safe winter, a safe whatever holiday you celebrate, and a safe new year
> 
> [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/punchyfakegamer)


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